Dancing through the Moonlight
by DarkLadyLaura
Summary: Alice's dream prom comes true when Bella, the girl she has a crush on, finally notices her. At first it seems too perfect to be true, but then she finds out Bella is a vampire - which is even more perfect. AU, AB, Alice POV.


Prom night, tonight. It was senior prom, and even though I didn't have a date, I was practically wet with excitement. Because tonight I got to wear my dress. And I absolutely _loved_ my dress.

I had designed it myself, my first true creation. It was a simple pattern, but I was more proud of it than I'd be of my firstborn someday. It almost looked professional, and I wriggled into it that night with a feeling verging on ecstasy. I looked myself over in the full length mirror in my room, and I was so cute I seemed to be glowing. It truly mystifies me how I don't have a date tonight. Are all the girls at school blind? Or are they just really really straight?

Who knows? All I knew was that I was utterly adorable, and I spent at least ten minutes preening in the mirror. The dress was tight and clingy and I'd sewn it meticulously from four yards of white silver silk satin that I'd bought online for seventy dollars a metre. My mom said it was too expensive, but they could've charged me my soul and I still would've bought it. It was just too perfect, and it felt so smooth and sensual against my skin. In any case, it was cheaper than the embroidered french ivory bridal lace I'd bought for the trim. Not to mention the rhinestone beading that took many painstaking hours to handsew into the sweetheart neckline. But it was worth it, so totally worth it. I'd been trying it on every day after school, just for fun, and I was always reluctant to take it off again. My feelings for my dress were so powerful that many times I had to restrain myself from simply spreading it on the bed and making passionate love to it. But I wasn't the type to force my lusts on innocent haberdashery, and I certainly didn't want to stain it.

And my shoes! Windsor Smith Milan, nuff said. Actually, no, there's lots to say. Such shoes deserved a serenade, and serenade them I shall. Genuine leather, stiletto heeled, white to match my dress. They were open toed—my toenails polished—and the leather strap that enclosed around the ankle had a tiny chrome buckle. Perfection. The heels were a full four inches long and it was a good thing I had the natural grace of a ballerina or my neck might've been at risk. My sister said they were death traps, but she was just jealous. To me, they were as comfortable as a cloud. Such sublime footwear could never cause me anything but pleasure.

And the perfection didn't end at my dress, oh no. I'd done my own hair too, although it was very short, so there really hadn't been much to do with it. It was black and I'd gotten a pixie cut about a year ago, shortly after I realized how much attention I'd get if I chopped it all off. And so, despite my mother's tears and all my friends warning me not to, I went ahead and had it sheared. Fortunately, the style really suited me. I had very pretty features and even the stylist said my neck was too perfect to be concealed behind a curtain of hair. Short hair allowed my face to shine.

And shine I did. Especially tonight. I was very artful with my makeup, and I took care to apply it perfectly, flicking my lashes with thick black mascara and painting my pursed lips with shiny red lipstick. I'd been a bit daring with the eye shadow and I went with a metallic pink that made my eyes pop like firecrackers. I was still admiring my reflection in the mirror and looking into my own eyes seriously made my heart flutter. But it wasn't only vanity, it was hope as well. And a bit of nervousness. Because there was a girl at school that I desperately wanted to notice me. Her name was Bella Swan. I had been totally and secretly in love with her for almost a year, and I would just die if she noticed me.

Prom that night was held in the ballroom of the Sheraton Hotel. I didn't have a car or a date, so I was forced to get a ride with my sister and her boyfriend.

Tickets were expensive, but well worth it. The whole affair was like a glamorous Hollywood premier. The ballroom was suffused in dark blue light with strings of blue and white balloons hung pillar to pillar. The tables were covered in white tablecloths and in the center of each table a white rose leaned on a long stem inside a slender glass vase. Girls in designer dresses and boys in tuxedoes stirred on the dancefloor and above them all crystal chandeliers shimmered in the bluish light like clusters of cobalt stars.

I sighed and had an almost spiritual reaction.

It was beautiful. Like heaven.

I was practically floating in my heels as we entered the ballroom and soon my sister and her boyfriend were on the dancefloor, leaving me to mingle and fish for compliments about my dress. I was one of the popular girls in school, the kind of girl who can fit in anywhere. There weren't many homophobes in Seattle, so no one had ever really held my orientation against me. And combined with my sunny smile and relentlessly friendly personality, there were very few people who didn't love me.

So I moved from group to group and showed off the dress I made, explaining how I had designed it myself and harmlessly exaggerating how much talent was actually required in order to fashion such a garment. Everyone was very impressed—some even gushing—yet somehow it still managed to fall just a little short of expectation. To be honest, I had imagined a scenario where I would walk in and collectively turn the heads of everyone in attendance. I had pictured the band fumbling to a halt, the dancers dwindling to stillness, and everybody staring at my dress in awe as I sailed by with a haughty air of affected disconcern. But perhaps that was a little delusional. In reality, some of those girls were in Versace – my own humble creation seemed a tad plain in comparison.

I did turn quite a few heads, but they were mostly boys. Which was nice, I guess, but it didn't really light any fires in me. I'm a lesbian, after all. It was the girls I wanted to noticed me, and they did—in a way—but it was mostly just friendly admiration or thinly veiled envy. But that was okay, because there was only one girl who's eyes I truly wanted to draw.

And that girl was Bella Swan.

Ah, Bella Swan. She had been my secret crush ever since I passed her in the corridor one fateful day before lunch period. All it took was one glance, and pow. Love at first sight.

We didn't have any classes together and we'd never actually spoken, but that didn't seem to matter. There was just something about her, something that drew me toward her like a freight train hitched to my heart. A major part of it was her looks. She had dark hair and pale skin, a combo I found completely irresistible. Another part of it was her body. She liked to wear clothes that revealed her midriff, and she had the sexiest abs. Not to mention big tits and a tight ass. Call me superficial, but I couldn't help it. She was the most beautiful—and sexy—girl I had ever seen.

It just sucked that her name was the only thing I knew about her. And I only knew that because she had a reputation as a bit of a bad ass. I didn't know why, but I'm sure it was mostly her image. When a girl walks around with combat boots and a tattoo of a black rose on her shoulder, she's seldom the sweet and innocent type. She actually had a very strong lezzy vibe, and that was probably another reason I was so into her. It was silly, but deep down, some part of me actually believed I had a chance. I could really picture it in my head. All I needed was an excuse to talk to her. I'm sure that would be enough. I'd always been too scared, but tonight…tonight was prom night. If my highschool fairytale was going to come true, it would be tonight.

And so, I waited and watched. I kept my eyes peeled all prom, but it was well into the night when I finally spotted her. She was on the dancefloor with some guy, and I almost died when I got a glimpse of her dress. If it was anyone else wearing it, I would've been jealous as a snake, but because it was Bella I was simply stunned. I'd been very curious to see what she'd wear, since her ordinary fashion sense was kind of rugged, and I was not disappointed.

Her dress was black, of course—black seemed to be her color—and even at a glance I could estimate it's price at over five hundred dollars. It was a black one shoulder chiffon with a black lace bodice. The dress was floor length and it swept on the ground behind her. The exposed shoulder was the shoulder with the tattoo and there was a slit in the dress that revealed flashes of another tattoo winding up her thigh in a thorny black rosevine. The lace bodice was partly transparent against her pale skin and I seriously got horny just looking at her.

But then I looked at the guy she was dancing with, and the feeling turned just a little sour. I didn't recognize him, but he was probably a jock, if not a professional bodybuilder. Those guys are all dumb assholes, even when they weren't dancing with the girl I was secretly in love with. I wondered if he was her boyfriend, but after the dance was over, she didn't dance with him again.

I kept watch for a while, building my courage, and I noticed her dance with at least three different guys and one girl. This gave me hope for many reasons. First of all, it meant she was probably here with a bunch of friends and no date. That was definitely good news. And second of all, she danced with a _chick._ Naturally, I found that very fascinating. While it wasn't unheard of, it wasn't completely normal either, and to a lesbian admirer like myself it even seemed to suggest that perhaps she was into girls as well. I mean, it was possible. Right?

Of course it was. So then all I had to do was walk up to her and…

What? Ask her to dance?

Well, yeah. I mean, why not? What's the worst that could happen? Embarrassing humiliation and rejection? Maybe, but I really didn't think Bella was that kind of girl. I didn't know a single thing about her, of course, but just by looking at her I could tell she was good person. If she wasn't interested, she'd let me down gently.

And if she said yes?

Excitement surged through my body at the thought. Perhaps it was just the magical atmosphere of prom, but it really did seem possible. All my dreams coming true right here at my very own senior prom – just imagine. It could be so perfect. And all I had to do was go over and talk to her and subtly hint at how easy I would be if she wanted me even just a little bit.

Meanwhile, the song had finished and there was a polite round of applause for the band. I kept my eyes glued to the dark-haired beauty known as Bella, and I hoped she wouldn't dance again. I got my wish; she smiled at the dude she was with, laughed at something, and then she patted his shoulder, turned, and sauntered away toward the punch bowl.

Alone.

Another surge of excitement swept through me. This was it. It was the first time I had seen her alone since I spotted her, and it would be my best opportunity to approach her. I could even use the excuse of getting punch. It was too perfect, and I just had to do something. So I took a deep breath, smoothed my dress against my torso with my hands, and went over.

I went directly to the punch bowl, keeping my eyes innocently to myself, and reached for the crystal dipper. She was right there beside the bowl, sipping from a cup and gazing out across the dancefloor. It was the closest I had ever been to her, and the proximity made me giddy.

I poured a cupful of the strawberry pink punch, my hand trembling only slightly, and then I held the cup in both hands and lingered beside her, hoping she'd notice me. She was bobbing gently to the music and after a moment or two she did. She glanced at me once, just a casual glance, and went to glance away. But something made her look again. I offered her a shy smile, like: hey, look at me, I'm totally in love with you. I could feel myself blushing and I probably looked exactly like what I was; a girl with a crush. The stars in my eyes seemed to take her by surprise a little, but not in a bad way. The second look she gave me was longer and then she smirked.

"Hey," she said.

Oh my god. She spoke to me.

It was just one word, but it sent a bolt of exhilaration directly into my chest. Bella Swan had just spoken to me, and my whole life now depended on the outcome of this conversation. So I nodded once, casually, and said:

"Hi."

And I was quite proud of myself, too. It wasn't the most dashing reply, perhaps, but it came out in a cute kind of chirp that made me seem completely adorable.

If you were into chicks, that is. It was hard to tell with Bella. I couldn't expect to seduce her with a single syllable, but I was encouraged by how she paused to look me over. Her eyes were dark and they sparkled like ebony jewels as they moved up and down my body.

"Nice dress," she said.

The compliment smacked into me like a truck. Other girls had said same thing—and more elaborately, too—but other girls weren't Bella Swan. "Thanks," I said. "I made it myself."

I tried to sound as modest as possible, but she seemed impressed. She looked at my dress again, and I obliged her by turning into a pose, so she could see exactly how well the white satin clung to my body. It may have been my imagination, but I'm pretty sure her eyes might've lingered on my butt.

"Not bad," she said. "Did you design it yourself or did you follow a pattern?"

"I designed it," I said proudly.

She nodded, still impressed. "Wow."

The compliments made me glow so hard the glass in my hand almost melted. I took a sip, my eyes flickering over her own dress, and suddenly I realized what an idiot I was. I couldn't believe I had been standing here soaking up praise without saying a single word in return, and I almost choked on the punch in my rush to tell her.

"I mean, your dress is pretty amazing, too," I blurted, and that sounded so false and self-centered that I quickly added, "I mean, seriously. It's incredible. I saw you before, and I was like: oh my god. It really just blew me away. I couldn't stop _staring_!"

And now I couldn't stop babbling. I felt my face heat, hoping I hadn't scared her off, but she only smiled. She looked down at her dress for a moment, as if she might've forgotten what it looked like, and then she lifted her smile to me.

"Thanks," she said. "So what's your name? I don't think I've seen you before."

I admit that stung a little, because I was Mary Alice Brandon, and everybody knows Mary Alice Brandon. I'm the cutest and nicest girl in school, for god's sake. But I forgave her, and shrugged it off.

"Oh, I'm Alice," I said. "Mary Alice Brandon."

I loved saying my full name. It had such a music to it. It really was a pretty name, and luckily, the other girl seemed to agree.

"Cute name," she said. "I'm Bella."

I already knew that, but I nodded and repeated the name in my head: _Bella._

If my name was cute, then hers was just beautiful. Literally. It actually meant beautiful in Italian. It was so perfect for her. I was staring at her face right now, and seriously. The girl was supernatural, especially up close like this. I never knew pale skin could be so perfect and smooth. It was like cream, and in the light of the colored lamps in the ballroom it had an exotic icy blue tinge.

Meanwhile, I was totally staring. Any other person might've been awkward or freaked out, but she only sipped her punch and politely waited for me to snap out of it. Finally I did manage to shake myself out of it, literally shaking my head, and then I blurted out the first thing that came to me.

"So, um, hey – do you have a boyfriend?"

She arched a black and perfect eyebrow. I realized it was a strange question and tried to smooth it over.

"I mean, I was just wondering because…"

"Because why?"

The corner of her mouth had tilted into a smirk and she was watching me as if she already knew the answer. My eyes flickered over her rich red lipstick and I chuckled. The way she was looking at me made me feel weak inside and I decided to just say it.

"Because I'm kind of trying to hit on you," I admitted.

My face was on fire. God, I never knew this would be so hard. I stole a glance at her face, but she didn't seem alarmed that a girl was making a pass at her, or even surprised. She simply smirked behind her punch glass, sipped, and said:

"Really?"

The reply made me a little bolder, but only a little. I looked at her with my bright red face and nodded coyly. "Yeah," I said. "So, um…do you?"

"No," she said. "No boyfriend."

"Oh," I giggled.

And I was so embarrassed that I didn't know what else to say. I had never been rendered so shy in all my life, but her dark eyes and her dark lips and her dark hair and her dark dress – all of it was just so overwhelming.

I tried to read her expression, but I couldn't. It was exactly the same as when I had first walked over – just cool and dark beauty. I hadn't made much of an impact on her at all, and I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She had made it clear she's unattached and she hadn't recoiled in disgust when she learnt I liked her, so did that mean I had a chance?

I truly didn't know, and even worse, I had no way to find out. All I wanted was for her to ravish me on the refreshments table—or at least dance with me—but my frazzled brain just couldn't put any words together that would—

She chuckled. It was just a soft snort of amusement, but I guess she thought it was cute how I was standing there like an idiot in a satin dress.

"Well?" she demanded playfully. "I thought you were hitting on me?"

Her tone was teasing, but I think she was trying to help me out as well – as if she actually wanted me to hit on her. Problem is, I had only said I was _trying_ to hit on her, and it turned out to be much harder than I thought it would be. Still, she seemed to like the coy routine, so I shrugged one of my bare and tiny shoulders and smiled at her shyly.

"It's not that easy," I said. "You're really hot."

It was risky flattery, but it seemed to be effective. Her lips moved into almost a full smile and she took a moment to sip her punch. Then she nodded.

"Tell you what," she said. "Why don't I hit on you instead?"

I almost died right then. The happiness – it was dizzying. I could feel my eyes go moist and round as I looked up and batted them at her in sheer girlish gratitude.

"Would you?" I practically whimpered.

It might've come across as just a little pathetic, but I guess I was cute enough to get away with it. She smirked in a don't-mention-it kind of way and set her punch cup on the table.

"Sure," she said, and offered me a hand. "Dance?"

I looked at her hand, breathless with excitement. The band had started another song and slowly I placed my hand in hers. The touch was electric. Her fingers closed around mine and she smirked.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll lead."

And it was all I could do not to stumble after her onto the dancefloor.

The other couples were already moving slowly in each other's arms and we drew some glances as she put her hand at my waist. Her touch tingled so much I almost squirmed away from it, but instead I just bit down on my giddiness and put my own hand on her shoulder. It was the bare shoulder, the shoulder with the tattoo of the black rose, and her skin was cool and smooth – smoother than the silk of my dress.

She was at least a few inches taller than me and I had to look up slightly to see her face. Such a beautiful face. Her hair was styled in a black cascade and glittering stones dangled from her earrings. They might've even been diamonds. I never dreamed I would get this close to her, and I couldn't help openly gazing at her face. I still wasn't positive if she was actually into chicks, but at this point it didn't even matter. I was happy just being close to her. Her beauty seemed to actually burn me.

My eyes roamed her face until they met hers. Dark and serene and darkened further with makeup and mascara. My heart started to race and I quickly looked away. When I looked back again she was still looking at me and a soft smirk had curved her lips.

"You're very nervous, aren't you?" she asked.

A small giggle gushed out of me. I didn't think it was so obvious, but at least she seemed to like it. "A little," I admitted.

"Why?"

I was sure that was pretty obvious too, so I figured I'd just confess. Come clean. I was obviously incapable of acting casual around her, and I wanted her to know.

"To be honest," I said, my eyes flickering away from her face and back again. "I kind of have a crush on you." I checked her reaction and blushed. She was smiling, so I blushed a bit more and went on. "Ever since I saw you at school, I just…I thought you were really beautiful."

It felt so great to actually say it out loud. I had never even told my sister. Not because it was some great secret, but just because I never thought it would happen. I mean, I'd never even met the chick. And now—

We were dancing at prom. She was touching my waist and holding my hand and I was looking into her eyes and melting inside. It was just a dance, and she was probably just being nice, but still.

We were dancing.

The only thing that could've made it more perfect was if she reacted to my confession with a confession of her own, but considering she had never even noticed me before, it was highly unlikely she might've been secretly in love with me this entire time. In any case, my little pledge made her smile, even if she did downplay it with her eyes.

"That's sweet," she said.

"Yeah," I agreed, and since it was best to change the subject, I let myself notice her dress all over again. "But I still can't get over your _dress_," I gushed. "It really is amazing."

Flattery didn't appear to have much effect on her, but she chuckled once and nodded. "Thanks," she said. "You must really like dresses, huh?"

I nodded eagerly and pounced on the topic like a puppy. "Yep," I said. "I'm going to be a fashion designer one day. After graduation I'm going to the Art Institute of Seattle. What about you, what college are you going to?"

"I haven't decided yet," she said. "I might take a year off, go traveling."

I nodded and I wanted to comment on how cool that sounded, but I noticed her dress again and I couldn't help myself. "I'm sorry," I said, "but that dress is _amazing_. What kind of fabric is that? I mean, I know it's chiffon, but is it a blend, or…?"

"I'm not really sure."

I took my hand from her shoulder and gestured loosely at the dress.

"May I?"

I meant if I could feel her fabric, and I meant it with perfectly innocent cloth-based curiosity—really, I did—but the way she smirked made me shiver.

"Go ahead," she said boldly.

I blinked at her tone, and suddenly I was nervous, as if I had asked to touch her boob. Her upper bodice was entirely lace, a black mesh stenciled against her pale skin, so I reached for the opaque fabric around her waist. The material was soft under my hand and slightly elastic. I took a pinch of it and kneaded it between my thumb and forefinger. She was watching me as if I was doing something erotic to her, and I gulped.

"I think it's silk," I said, trying not to squeak. "It's very…soft."

My face was on fire, not to mention other parts of my body. Luckily, female arousal tends to be discreet. If I was a guy, I'd be pitching a major tent in my dress right now.

I was still feeling her fabric and I could feel heat under the material. Her body. My eyes flickered over her chest, noting how large her breasts were, and then my gaze drifted up to her face. She smirked.

"When you're done copping a feel, you can let go," she said.

My eyes widened in alarm and I unhanded her hastily. "S-sorry," I sputtered. "I was just…"

But she chuckled and took my hand and placed it back on her bare shoulder. "Relax," she said. "I'm just playing. Loosen up, okay? I'm not going to _bite._"

She added an odd emphasis on the word bite, as if it was a personal joke that I wouldn't really understand. I smiled bashfully. Her hand was back at my waist and once again I had to resist squirming under her touch.

We continued to dance for the rest of the song and then we danced again. Afterwards we got some punch and hung out with friends and then we were back on the dancefloor. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Not even in my wildest dreams could I have pictured something so…um, perfect.

It was really the only word I could use to describe it. After crushing on this girl for an entire year, subsisting only on the occasional glimpse in the corridor or the cafeteria, here we were. At prom. I'd always thought it was just a silly crush, but now I felt like a total idiot for never doing anything about it. Everything I had ever dreamed about her was true, aside from how in my fantasies we'd always end up naked and having sex all over the place. But aside from that, she was everything I ever wanted her to be. Cool, confident, sexy – and most importantly, she was into girls. Oh, if I'd only known that one detail. If I'd known that one detail even just three months ago we might've been married with kids by now.

But alas. Senior prom is where highschool romances end, not where they begin. So even though I was thrilled to pieces to finally be in her arms, there was also a little melancholy. Because in a few weeks we'd both be graduating and after that I might not ever see her again.

Which meant there was only one thing to do: enjoy it while it lasts.

And pray to god I get her number.

We spent the rest of the night together, dancing and flirting, and soon it was getting late. People had already begun to leave, but I wanted to stay as long as possible with Bella. We were sitting together at an empty table, just the two of us, and the table was toward the back where it was nice and dark. She was sitting with her legs crossed and the slit of her dress draped to side so that most of her legs were exposed. My eyes kept darting to the vine tattooed across her milky thigh and my heart thumped every time. I had taken the white rose out of the vase and occasionally I would touch it to my nose and sniff it, hoping she'd think it was cute.

I could've flirted with her in that dark corner forever, but eventually my sister Cynthia came along. She was my ride, after all, and she couldn't leave without me. We had gone dress shopping together a few weeks ago and on my advice she had bought a navy homecoming dress with frilly skirts. She looked sweet, really, but not even in my league. Bella and I were sitting side by side, close together, and Cynthia came right over and interrupted.

"There you are!" she said, with a whole bunch of needless exasperation. "I've been looking for you _everywhere._"

What terrible timing. Bella was this close to having me making out with her at the table like a skank and I totally would've done it.

So I gave my sister a look and said, "Why?"

"Me and Mike were about to leave," she said. "Don't you want a ride to the after party?"

I looked across the ballroom, only now realizing that it was practically empty. The sight of the empty stage with the instruments just leaning there against the amps made me sad. Was prom really over?

I didn't want prom to be over, and I certainly didn't want to leave Bella without handing over my phone number, my panties, and my heart itself, so I turned to her and asked hopefully, "Were you going to Mike's party?"

Bella was reclining in her chair, watching the two of us, and she had her hand clasped around her punch glass. She thought about the question for a moment, as if she hadn't bothered to even decide until now, and then she smiled.

"Actually, I'm going to a private party," she said. Then she turned her eyes to mine and smirked. "But you can come."

I lit up. "I can?"

"Sure," she said.

Cynthia frowned at all this, naturally. She didn't know what was going on, but it was obviously making me happy, and as my little sister she couldn't really allow that.

"Yeah, but how will you get home?" she demanded. "You don't have a car."

I bristled slightly. It was embarrassing that I didn't have a car. I had a driver's license and a part time job, but I'd bought a twenty two hundred dollar sewing machine instead. It was a terrific machine, made in Sweden, but right now I really wish I had a car.

"Just leave Alice with me," Bella said. "I'll make sure she gets home safely."

I threw her a smile. I'd been perfectly willing to pay for a cab, but it was nice to know she wanted to hang out with me as much as I did.

Cynthia was very suspicious of all this, but she couldn't find any objection. "Well, alright," she said. "Is that good with you, Alice?"

"Yeah, that's perfect," I said. "I'll text mom if I'm late."

Cynthia nodded, frowning at Bella. She saw how close we were sitting and it was pretty obvious, even to her, that something romantic was going on. It made her uncomfortable, but she made an effort to soften her glare when she turned it to me.

"Well," she said. "Okay. See ya."

I nodded. "Bye."

Cynthia gave us one last look and then she turned and sailed away with her blue skirts swishing.

"Was that your sister?" Bella asked.

"Yeah," I said, but I didn't want to talk about her. I wanted to talk about Bella, and the party she had invited me to, so I leaned on the table with my elbows and smiled at her, touching the rose to my nose for that extra cuteness. "So," I said. "Who else is gonna be at this party?"

"Just me and you," she said.

I froze with the rose at my nose. At first I didn't quite get it, but then I think I did. My smile stretched into a grin behind the flower, but I tried to fight it back.

"Just us?" I asked.

"Mmhm," she said. Smiling, she took the rose out of my hands and bopped the bloom against my head playfully, like a witch with a wand. She was leaning so close we were almost kissing and when she spoke it was barely a whisper. "I was thinking we could get a room upstairs," she said. "They might even have a suite available. What do you think?"

My heart started racing and I felt pinpricks of heat in my cheeks.

Was she suggesting what I thought she was suggesting?

There was no way to know, not in that instant, but it didn't really matter. My throat had closed over and I had to swallow before I could answer.

"Um, okay," I said. Then I giggled. "Great."


End file.
